She's not a very good mother
by feathered moon wings
Summary: (Janet Drake Centric) Janet Drake… didn't know how to be a mother. The thing was, Janet Drake didn't and had never wanted to be a mother. She tries though, when she rememebers she tries to be a good mother, better than her own mother used to be. Still, she knows, she's not a very good mother.


Janet Drake… didn't know how to be a mother. The thing was, Janet Drake didn't and had never wanted to be a mother. But she was and that was that.

The idea that all mothers love their children is true, to some extent. And she did, she does love Timothy. She loves him as much as a woman like her is capable of.

Janet is aware she isn't a very good mother, in fact, she would be able to admit –at least to herself- she is a bad one. Just to put it somewhat kindly. But that's okay, she still loves her little son, so it is _okay_. Isn't it?

Timothy stays home alone for such long periods of time. It makes her sad, she misses him. Anyway, he's old enough to take good care of himself; he really, really is… isn't he? It doesn't matter, it's better that she and Jack spend so much time abroad; Janet is convinced her performance as a mother would be much worse if they weren't.

Still, she is aware. She's not a very good mother. But she looks for ways, when she remembers, that is, ways to be a good mother, to show her brilliant little bird that she can be good at her job, that he is loved and she really _does_ want him to love her too.

She pats his head when she passes by. Cradles his cheek in her hand when he looks at her.

Her mother wasn't a very good one either. Unlike Janet herself, she was almost always at home. The difference is it had felt as empty as if she had not been there at all.

She remembers her nannies though. Janet smiles slightly; her perfect marbel face cracking the stone in an effort to move her lips upwards. Her nannies were kind and sweet and they gave her treats when she behaved and called her 'good girl'.

She remembers Tina the most; she was Janet's favorite, but she never would've dared to tell her mother that. Her mother used to hit Tina; her skin was dark; her eyes were sad. _'You have been a good girl, lil' Jan. Don't tell yr' mama I gave you a cooke, hm?'_

Her mother had fired her when she discovered Tina had taken Janet to a friend of hers. She did that when Janet's mother disappeared for long periods of time, hiding in her perfect room. Tina always hated when she was lonely so she thought it was a nice idea to pass the evening chattering the three of them; eating sweet things and listening to the radio.

Janet likes to think of Tina as a good example of motherhood, and really, what does that say about her? She raised Timothy the way her own mother had raised her, the proper way. But was it really the good way?

Now days she understands what Tina did was wrong; you shouldn't give a little girl so many sweets; she'll get fat and society will point and laugh at her. It'd be hard for a girl like that to find a husband.

But Janet isn't all like her mother, that's why she married Jack. He is wild in his own proper way, wild like her. At least she likes to think she's wild in her mind. They travel and explore the world like one of those adventure books, full of peril and mysteries.

Janet raised Timothy to be proper and good, observant and intelligent. _'Good little boys don't make a fuss when there are guests around, it's embarrassing, Timothy. Stand straight and wipe your eyes, no need to make others feel uncomfortable.'_

But there's a small part of her that questions what she does, for her son, for society. A part of her that questions if the way she treats her little bird is the right one. She knows she's not a very good mother…

When she remembers she tries to be better. When her mind is not filled with the wonders of ancient civilizations and enormous corporations and _'I hate you Jack, just shut up!'_ She doesn't hate him always, just as she knows he doesn't hate her always.

When she is back home and she sees her little boy waiting for her at the door, eager to see them, she remembers, she remembers she should be better, she _must_ be better.

She kisses his forehead at night when he's asleep. She places the tip of her finger over his nose when he's sad.

And even though Janet knows it will make Timothy's body wrong, _'Stop eating like a pig Janet. Nobody want's a glutton for a wife. Look at you, your cheeks are so big already. I'll have to take better care of what you eat you stupid girl.'_ She can't help but go back to what she thought motherhood was. ' _Jan, lil' girl. Don't ya listen to yr mama. A few cookies ain't gonna kill you much less leave you in the streets. And any boy who likes you only for yr body ain't worth your time honey! Ya hear?'_

And she tries.

"Timothy." She calls him and Janet knows she's got his full attention "Timothy," she calls him again but that's no what she wants to say _'Little bird'_.

"Yes, mom?"

"I bought some pastries while we were in India," she declares with a serious voice, and why is she even talking to her son like that? _'I never wanted kids.'_ "I figured you might like them. They won't last long though…" She stops, her boy smiles at her, a light blush of embarrassment on his checks. Her Timothy tires to hide it but she can see he's beaming. It's such a small gesture, does it really mean that much to him? What does that say about her as a mother?

"Thank you, mom." He takes the expensive box from her hands and almost cradles it. Janet is almost saddened by the sight. "Would you…" Her son stops, there is doubt in his voice and Janet frowns; she taught him better than to speak without really knowing what to say.

Timothy pales as he glances at her face and quickly straightens.

"I was wondering if you'd like to share… them… with me." He starts driven but as he says this his words turn more unsure than before, almost as if realizing how silly he sounds.

' _Janet, no! I told you you could only have one slice of bread. You stupid child.'_

She says nothing and she can see the slow loss of her son's confidence as the seconds tick by.

' _Now, Jan. You don't deny yr nanny when she offers ya to have a cookie with 'er, it's not pelite.'_

"I guess I could eat one," she says dismissive but smiles slightly as her little bird brightens again.

As she lays dying in a puddle of her own sick, Batman and Jack in the corner of her eye, she thinks of her bright boy; her son, her little bird who will be _so_ much better than her. She thinks of Timothy and she saddens.

She still has so much to make up for. She could still be better than her mother, she _must_ be a better mother. She wonders if her little boy –he's not so little anymore, he's all grown up, how could she have missed it? She was wasting her time digging stupid relics and stones- will he miss her?

It's selfish of her but she hopes he does. Janet loves him so much, as much as a woman like her is capable of, she hopes that he loves her as well –she knows he does.

She wants him to know he is loved. The acid is burning her insides; it hurts like nothing she has ever felt. The thought of her little bird not knowing that she loves him is somehow more painful than the poison.

She knows she's not a very good mother. She never thought she wouldn't have the time to correct it.

* * *

 **Abril: I've had A LOT of fics planed for Tim and not one of them featured Janet as main character. How is it that my first Batman story is abut Janet? Seriously…**

 **Anyway, I really liked this sort of exploration, despite what I just said, I really enjoy her character and will probably continue to play with it.**

 **This was done very quickly so really, I have no idea what I'm doing. :)**

 **Also, thanks to PhoenixFeather10 for being my beta :D**


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